


What Happens in London Stays in London

by Sapphicsarah



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, Fluff, envy - Freeform, just a bit of nonsense really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-18 15:13:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13684248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphicsarah/pseuds/Sapphicsarah
Summary: Cameron and Morven are getting married! Bernie somehow gets dragged along for the Hen night. Her best friend, Serena, gets dragged along with her. Serena is dating Gerald, the world's most boring neurosurgeon. Bernie pines!!!!Valentine's day gift for Surreal-equals-hippo!!!!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt was envy! I got carried away!
> 
> Hi! So basically, it's a few years down the line and Morven and Cameron are getting married. Bernie and Serena are best friends, nothing more. Bernie is in love with Serena, and Serena is dating some dude. They did share their first kiss, but they kept it confined to theatre... UNTIL LONDON!!!

Bernie isn't entirely sure how she ended up sitting in an overheated and overcrowded Uber in London between Serena and Morven. Serena is on her right side, buzzing with excitement because Morven is getting married, and Morven on her left, who seems about ready to keel over from excitement about the whole thing. Elinor is in the front of the car on her phone, looking up their itinerary for the evening and they’re chatting nonstop as Bernie stares out the window.

The Hen night had been left a little late, due to their schedules and hectic lives. But they were all free tonight and had climbed into the Uber and been whisked away before Bernie could even gather her thoughts. She hadn’t even packed a bag, just her normal “On Call” bag was sitting by her feet. She’d been tricked, you see. Serena had tricked her, the sly woman. She’d scheduled Bernie to be on call, and then replaced her with some random locum doctor. Now, knowing she had no plans, Serena had basically herded Bernie into the waiting car in the hospital car park.

Bernie doesn't really mind, she just wishes she had more time to prepare for a girls night. Sometimes Bernie still feels like a lost introvert, even among friends and the woman who will soon be her daughter-in-law. Thank god for Serena, the local extrovert who adopted her nearly three years ago. They’ve been friends for a few years now, best friends even. They run a ward together, have drinks after work at Albie's, celebrate Christmas and Birthdays together. They even share Hen nights, apparently.

The current situation has become quite common in the last few years; Serena whisking Bernie away for her own good. This whole trip had been planned so that Bernie could come, and she’s glad to be included. She's glad that Morven loves Cameron, and glad that Serena is there, chatting away excitedly. She has this rosy glow about her tonight, and Bernie turns slightly away from the window to just watch her out of the corner of her eye.

The Uber is a small car, and they’re all pressed together, knee to knee. Serena’s thigh is warm and flush with Bernie’s. Bernie clutches her hands together in her lap, and resists the urge to place her palm on Serena’s knee.

It’s a daily struggle, not to touch Serena. Not to hold her, kiss her, tell her that she loves her. It’s been two and a half years since their kiss in theatre. Two and a half years of utter torture. It hadn’t been two weeks after Fletch had been injured that Bernie had realized she’d made a mistake. Despite Serena’s initial discomfort about the whole thing, Bernie had realized they shared a closeness. An ease and a simple intimacy that Bernie had never had with anyone before, not even with Alex. It hadn’t been two weeks after they kissed that Bernie had looked herself in the mirror and realized she was in love with Serena Campbell.

She was fucked. and had been utterly fucked for the last two and a half years. Pining and gazing, and wandering through life in a bit of a Serena-induced haze. No one (save Dom) seemed to notice, thank goodness. But Bernie had always been good at hiding her emotions, suppressing things and all that.  She’d just expected it to get easier at some point. Instead it only got harder.

Bernie turns away from Serena and closes her eyes, tries to zone out, breaths in and out, opens her eyes and watches the city lights go by. London is crowded, dark and lovely and loud. Bernie always wants to smoke as soon as she enters the city. She starts to fiddle with her fingers, trying to remember all the reasons she quit when Serena reaches a hand out and gently places it over her restless wrists.

Bernie turns to look at her and tries to remember what they were all talking about.

Serena looks at her with a very serious look and says, “So, they’re going to release butterflies into the church after they’ve said their vows. What do you think?”

Bernie just stares.

Serena smiles after a moment, and Bernie laughs, realizing that she was joking

“Just a small joke,” Serena murmurs. And then she leans in a little closer as Morven and Elinor start singing along to some song about not picking up the phone. As if anyone actually called anybody anymore.

“You alright, darling? You were miles away.”

Bernie attempts to smile reassuringly. “Yeah, just tired.”

Serena furrows her brow in concern, and squeezes her hand gently over Bernie’s. Bernie moves her fingers so they’re holding hands. Best friends are allowed to hold each other's hands.

Serena inches impossibly closer and whispers into her ear. “Look,” Serena starts. “We’re just going to the spa for a massage, and then the girls will be off to meet their friends in town. You and I will have a bottle of shiraz in the hotel bar and then go to bed, okay?”

Bernie swallows and nods. “Sounds good,” she manages. She squeezes Serena’s hand and tries not to be disappointed when Serena pulls away. They’ve arrived at the hotel and are climbing out into the city street.

Bernie is glad that Serena is sometimes unable to read her. She knows she looks tired, because she is tired. But she’s also having a hard time with the whole Gerald Situation.

The situation had started about ten months ago, from a dating app of all things. Ric had talked Serena into joining after too many bottles of Shiraz one night. They had taken selfies, Ric had written her profile, and Serena had pressed the button that would start the algorithm that would eventually match her with Gerald, the world’s most boring neurosurgeon.

He works at St. James and does neuro-spine surgeries. Lots of lumbar stuff with rods and things. Bernie can never pay attention to him for more than twenty seconds without wanting to claw her eyes out. She’s seen him a few times at Albie’s and once at Serena's house. He’d been sat at the kitchen table, right in Bernie’s chair, like he belonged there or something. She’d almost been sick at the sight.

It’s a ridiculous situation, because Bernie had missed her chance. She had literally let Serena slip through her fingers. And now they were friends and Serena's got a bloody boyfriend, partner, person thingy. But Bernie still has that warm feeling in her chest whenever they’re together and she still feels like she’s dying whenever they haven’t seen each other for a few days. She’s still utterly fucked.

Bernie is pulled from her thoughts as they check in. Serena had booked two rooms, one with Elinor and Morven and one for Serena and Bernie. They climb into the lift and plan to meet at the spa on the third floor in an hour. Their rooms are on different floors and Elinor and Morven get off a few floors below them. The doors open and Elinor and Morven disappear in whirl of girlish glee. Bernie tries to remember if she was like that on her Hen night.

“Alone at last,” Serena chuckles at the sudden, peaceful silence.

Bernie hums in agreement as she watches the numbers climb. They’re almost at the top floor, and they file out into the corridor. Serena leads and Bernie follows, until they reach their room and slip inside.

It’s a large, ordinary room, with white walls and mundane artwork. A large bed takes up the majority of the space, and its covered with a fluffy, white duvet. The window is large and the city lights glimmer through the raindrops making their way down the glass.

It takes them both a minute to realize there’s only one bed.

Serena laughs it off, and disappears into the toilet. Bernie sits down at the foot of the bed and hangs her head. She really is very tired. She listens to the sound of Serena humming that song she always hums when she’s happy. Bernie has been listening to the sound of it for years and still doesn’t know any of the words.

She leans back on her elbows and stretches out her legs. The sink is running, and after a minute Serena steps out again and Bernie wishes she wasn’t so afraid of being left alone with her. She wants so much from this woman, and can’t ever seem to find the courage to ask.

“You alright?” Serena asks her for the second time that hour.

“I think I just need a quick nap before we head back down.”

Serena nods. “I think I’ll join you.”

A byproduct of being an introvert and getting old is that car rides are exhausting now, and a long car journey paired with constant stimulation means Bernie needs a nap. So they both lie back, kick off their shoes, and shake off their coats. Bernie sets her alarm for forty five minutes, and Serena peels back the duvet and snuggles into the middle of the bed.

Bernie sighs into the pillow.

“See you in forty five minutes,” Serena murmurs.

“See you soon,” Bernie whispers back.

 


	2. Chapter 2

If the nap was heaven, then Bernie is not sure what the spa is. Probably some kind of paradise made of creams and balms and white candles. It’s dark and warm and Bernie knows she’ll fall asleep as soon as she gets on the masseuse’s table. The young woman just chuckles and tell her it happens all the time. Bernie takes off the white robe, lies down, listens to the soothing sounds of the rain forest, and falls asleep almost as soon as the hour-long massage begins.

Serena is sat in the corridor when Bernie exits the little massage room. She’s also in one of the hotel robes and her face is all dewey and soft-looking. She’d gone for the facial, rather than the massage. But Bernie has a bad back and a massage always does wonders. Serena keeps offering to give her one, and Bernie keeps turning her down.

“How was it?” Serena asks with a smile, as she flips the page of the magazine in her lap.  

“Heaven,” Bernie murmurs, and moves to sit next to her on the bench. She glances over at the magazine in Serena’s lap and sees a bland bride on the cover, smiling vacantly off the page. Bernie looks away.

She sighs and rests her head back against the wall as they wait for Morven and Elinor to emerge from their respective rooms. Serena quietly turns another page. Eventually, the girls come out and they all go up to shower. It’s an easy routine, one that Bernie and Serena have practiced over and over throughout their friendship. Bernie always showers first, since Serena likes to take long showers. Bernie dresses at the foot of the bed as Serena showers, and when Serena is done they put on makeup side by side at the sink.

It’s a pattern of theirs, getting ready together. Usually done at Serena’s when Bernie is too tired to drive home after dinner. The guest room is like Bernie’s second bedroom. She even has a drawer of clothes and a toothbrush that stays in the little holder in the guest bath. But she always ends up in Serena’s bathroom, whether to help her zip up a dress, double check Serena’s lipstick, or simply to watch her get ready. Bernie loves to watch Serena in the morning. She’s all sleepy softness and tends to move slowly about her room, gathering socks from the floor and brushing back her spiky bed-hair with tired fingers.

Bernie watches Serena put on some mascara and smiles when Serana turns to her.

“Will I do?” She gestures to her outfit, a simple white shirt and black trousers, effortlessly elegant and classic.

“Perfect, as always,” Bernie murmurs. She ducks her head away in mild embarressment at Serena’s resulting smile, and looks down before turning back to her reflection in the large mirror.

Serena hums and checks one last time, before placing her lipstick in a small clutch with finality. “Right,” she says. “Let's get going.”

The hotel restaurant is small and intimate and screams posh. The waiters are all in black and the menu doesn’t even list the prices next to the food. Bernie feels all out of place but then she just looks at Serena and feels herself being centered. Elinor and Morven are planning where to meet their friends, and Serena is ordering the wine.

The food is heavenly, bangers and mash for Bernie, fish and chips for Serena, and some kind of kale salad for the girls. Although Elinor ends up eating at least half of Serena’s chips. Serena doesn’t seem to mind. She’s glowing again, and not just from the wine.

She’s been glowing a lot lately, and Bernie thinks it might be because of Gerald. What had started off as a fling may be turning into something long lasting. Bernie’s heart clenches at the thought.

She feels guilty, because she’s been avoiding Serena. They’ve been working differentshifts for a few weeks now, and Bernie isn’t quite sure how it all happened. It just sort of slowly became a thing, that Bernie turned down offers to go to Albie’s. And then she stopped texting Serena all the time, and then she stopped turning up at Serena’s house.

The worst of it was last week, when she decided to cancel dinner plans at the last minute, when she realized Gerald would also be there for Sunday dinner at Serena’s.  Sunday dinners used to be their thing. It was sacred, and had always been just the two of them cooking in Serena’s vast kitchen, singing along to 80’s pop music and slowly but surely making their way through _Joy of Cooking._

Sometimes the kids would come, usually Jason and maybe Cameron. Cameron and Morven’s second date had been a Sunday dinner at Serena’s. Even Charlotte came to a few, once she got more comfortable. Elinor and Charlotte had become close, texting and sharing memes. Together they taught Bernie how to use hashtags, a skill Bernie has yet to master, or so Charlotte tells her.

Charlotte had been a stabilizing friend when Elinor first got out of rehab. They went out clubbing and stayed sober together, Charlotte because of her anxiety and Elinor because of her recovery. They went to coffee shops a lot, at least according to instagram. Serena always whips out her phone whenever someone asks if she has children. There’s always a photo of Elinor and Charlotte in the mix, and she ends up talking about Cameron anyway. Several people have confused Bernie and Serena for a couple, when Serena refers to Jason and the lot of them as “our children.” Bernie can’t bring herself to mind.

But now it all seems like some kind of sick joke. Everything is going to change if Serena gets married again. And marriage seems to be the thing these days, the thing to do, the thing to talk about. Maybe it's just because Serena is excited about Morven’s wedding, but maybe something else has happened? Because Serena brought along that bridal magazine she was looking at in the spa.

She took it with her in the lift without Bernie noticing, walked down the corridor with it in her hand, and its still sitting on the wooden desk in their hotel room, seventeen floors above them. Bernie had spotted it while Serena was showering and had instantly wanted to set it on fire, or throw it out the window. She’s not sure what she’ll do if that neurosurgeon has proposed.

Normally if something that big had happened Serena would have told her. But they’ve been missing each other of late, and it's all Bernie’s fault. She always was a coward.

Serena is still glowing and talking about weddings as if it's the most important thing in the world and Bernie wants to disappear. She waits for the floor to swallow her up, or for her body to spontaneously combust. Anything would be better than watching Serena be happy and for Bernie to not be a part of that happiness. She wants a cigarette, but takes a sip of wine instead. She wonders if her lips are stained red and looks at Serena’s lips, still perfectly lined with lipstick.

Bernie want to kiss it clean off, wants to pin Serena to the wall and kiss her until she forgets all about stupid Gerald.She looks at Serena’s neck and swallows and feels herself getting lost in thoughts of what she want to do to Serena’s neck when she feels a sharp kick to her shin.

“Ow!”

Morven and Serena start, and look over at her in surprise as Elinor gives her a pointed look.

“You alright, darling?” Serena asks, her voice full of concern.

Bernie sits up a little straighter and rubs at her shin. She looks away from Elinor and back to Serena.

“Yeah, fine. Just banged by leg.” She takes another sip of wine and feels relief rush through her when Serena nods and turns back to Morven, already talking about something blue.

She looks covertly over at Elinor, who just raises her eyebrows. Bernie blushes and realizes she was caught staring at Serena by Serena’s daughter. She hastily finishes the last drops of wine and goes to pour herself another glass when Elinor clears her throat.

“I think I’ll go for a smoke, care to join me Bernie?”

“Umm.. sure?” Bernie says uncertainty, suddenly very nervous for whatever the young woman has to say in secret. Serena just waves them away and says she has to call Jason in a minute anyway, and Morven is already fielding text from her other friends. They’re supposed to leave in a little bit for the “real party.”

Bernie nods and slowly follows Elinor out into the summer night.

It stopped raining a little while ago, but there’s still pockets of puddles in the pavement, and Elinor gingerly steps over one until she’s just outside of the vestibule of the restaurant's entrance. The London street is quiet for a Friday, and Bernie knows Serena must have chosen this hotel for that. Serena knows Bernie likes to be tucked away when traveling.  

Elinor reaches into her jacket for a pack and a lighter and silently hands one over to Bernie. They’ve never smoked together before. It’s the one vice Elinor still allows herself, what with giving up drugs and alcohol, and other various things. Its a stress reliever, and Serena had given up trying to convince either one of them to really quit. Bernie thought she had quit. But then she saw Serena leafing through a bridal magazine, long after Morven has picked out her gown.

Bernie leans into the small, flickering light and takes in deep breath. She loves the smell of rain, even in a city. The world is a little softer just when it stops, when all is still.

“You have to stop looking at my mum like that Bernie.”

Bernie feels tears spring to her eyes. It's out of nowhere, and Bernie hates it because she has been so careful for so long. Elinor’s voice is kind, soft and small. Her voice was only a whisper, but it feels like it shattered the soft blanket of the after-rain.

“I didn’t know anyone ever noticed,” she says. She takes another drag and looks down at the puddle by her feet.

“I didn’t. Until mum started seeing Gerald.”

“Right,” Bernie mutters.

“Charlotte thinks you’re in love with her,” Elinor says cautiously. 

Bernie’s eyes slam shut at the thought of Charlotte seeing right through her. How utterly mortifying.

“Are you Bernie?”

Bernie looks anywhere but at Elinor. She can't bear it. She watches the rain drops drip down from the corner of the vestibule. Streaming across the fabric and dripping to the ground in a quiet plop. 

"Yes," she whispers. It's a strangled and garbled whisper, but like all confessions, seems effortless once done. She's never told anyone besides Dom before, and she feels lighter. She feels sad. 

Elinor is still looking at her, and she looks just like Serena, lovely and sweet. Bernie can't stand the look of pity in Elinor's eyes and she tries to smile, tries to be reassuring, but thinks she probably just looks strained. 

"It doesn't matter, you know," Bernie murmurs into the night.  "It's been ages. Can't be undone." 

Elinor takes another drag and remains silent, watching her. 

"I knew it the moment we met, but I didn't really know until a little while later." 

"Until Fletch was hurt?" Elinor prods after a moment. 

Bernie nods. "And then, I didn't want... I didn't want to lose the most important friendship of my life." She's sniffling now, and she feels rotten and exposed. She drops the cigarette into the puddle and extinguishes the tiny embers with the heel of her boot. Her chest hurts and she wants to go and have a cry. But Serena is inside, and they've only got one bed, and Bernie couldn't bear to fall apart in front of her. So she takes in a deep breath and turns to Elinor. 

"You should tell her Bernie." 

Bernie just scoffs. 

"I'm serious." Elinor finishes her own cigarette and snuffs it out. They probably smell like smoke, and Bernie knows she'll have to brush her teeth before she slips into bed beside Serena. Serena loathes the smell of smoke. 

"Maybe," Bernie says. Elinor looks unconvinced. "I'll think about it."

"Promise?" Elinor asks, and she gives Bernie that big smile, the toothy grin that makes her look like Serena when she's about to laugh. Bernie could never deny the Campbell Women anything. 

"Promise." 

And with a heavy sigh, Bernie turns and walks back into the hotel. 

…

An hour later the girls have left and Serena and Bernie are all alone. A herd of young women had appeared out of nowhere and swept Morven and Elinor away, declaring over and over that “What happens in London, stays in London.” There was a great deal of glitter left in their wake, and Serena still has a pair of paper glasses shaped like hearts that was left on her head by one of Morven’s friends from uni.

They’re talking like they used to, and Bernie is laughing her honking laugh and almost forgets about her conversation with Elinor. She’s missed this, being with Serena. It was only a few weeks ago that they stopped seeing each other everyday, but it feels like a lifetime. Bernie feels a little less tired everytime she makes Serena laugh.

They finish another bottle, although Serena has had most of it. They switch to coffee and split a tiramisu. It's dark and rich and Bernie spends the majority of the time just watching Serena enjoy it. If there’s anything Serena loves as much as wine, its chocolate. They scrape at the plate with their forks and have one more cup before the waiter kindly informs them that the restaurant is closing soon. Bernie looks around and realizes that the floor is being swept and several tables have chairs on them. They’re the only patrons left in the place.

Serena chuckles and has the good grace to apologize and leave their room number for the bill. She turns to Bernie with a smile and reaches over to place a hand on her shoulder. She rubs up and down and Bernie leans into her touch.

“Shall we?” Serena murmurs.

Bernie hums in response and they walk to the lifts side by side. Bernie feels all wound up and tired at the same time. Her brain is going a mile a minute and all she wants to do is tell Serena. Get it done and over with, but not now. Not now when they just spoke for an hour and laughed and felt comfortable again. She can’t find the courage to be brave, and realizes that she may have to live the rest of her life like this.

Because if Gerald marries Serena, Bernie will have to go to the wedding. Bernie will go to the wedding because Serena will ask her to, and Bernie would do anything to make Serena happy. Bernie will stand beside Serena and watch the love of her life get married. Bernie realizes somewhere between the eighth and seventeenth floor, that telling Serena just isn’t an option. She can’t do it. She won’t do it.

When they step out of the lift she realizes she’ll just carry on as they have for the last two years. They’ll be best friends, and nothing more.

There’s nothing she can do, and Bernie resigns herself to silence once more. She follows Serena into their room, and the door slowly clicks shut behind them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ending is a mess, but I needed to finish it. I may come back and fix it in a few weeks. Or I may just leave it as is. Who knows lads.

The room is cold and dark, but Serena walks through the darkness and turns the bedside lamp on. It’s warm and romantic, watching Serena slowly make their little world brighter. She pads across the carpet in bare feet, humming that song again, before disappearing to take off her makeup and brush her teeth.

Serena leaves the door slightly ajar, and the light from the bathroom streams across the floor. Bernie toes off her own shoes, slowly takes off her jacket and folds it into her overnight bag. She clicks on the tele out of habit. Nothing is on really, it's late at night, but she wants to hear something other than just Serena’s voice drifting around the room.

Some costume drama is on, and Bernie leaves it at that. She just needed some background noise to distract her from all the other thoughts in her head.

She checks her phone once she’s in her pajamas and sitting up against the bed’s headboard. There are a few messages, two from Cam telling her not to get too crazy at the hen night. An email from work, a text from Dom, and a job offer for a secondment. Bernie deletes the offer.

She always deletes the offers of far off places. She couldn’t bear it.

Serena exists the bathroom, face bare of makeup. Her skin is all dewy and glowy from that expensive face cream Bernie got her for Christmas. It smells of apricots, and Bernie smiles up at her.

“Hi,” Bernie murmurs.

“Hi,” Serena says with a smile. She climbs into the bed beside Bernie, immediately getting under the duvet and pulling it up to her chin. She sighs, and sinks into the pillows. “I love a good duvet.”

“You love anything luxurious,” Bernie points out. “You’ve got bloody Egyptian cotton sheets.”

“You love those sheets,” Serena grins.

“Yes, but I didn’t spend a fortune on them,” Bernie argues.

“No, you just mooch off of my _fancy_ lifestyle.”

Bernie scoffs, “I called you fancy one time!”

“Bernie, you said my towels were fancy because I color coordinated them. And you were baffled by my spice rack.”

Bernie just shakes her head.

“Most people have spice racks, darling.”  

“No, you’re just fancy.”

“You’re just hopeless,” Serena murmurs kindly.

“Maybe,” Bernie mumbles.

_Hopeless._

It’s a frightening word.

Bernie sighs and finally decides to get under the covers too. She places her phone on the bedside table, sets the alarm, and turns back round and sees Serena watching the tele.

“What is this?”

Bernie looks away and to the screen. “Don’t know. Jane Austen?” she guesses.

“Looks like Emma, I think.”

Bernie nods. “Sure.”

Serena chuckles and settles further into the middle of the bed, so that their legs are touching. Bernie tries not to stiffen or move away. They’ve shared a bed before. The first time was last Christmas when Bernie had been too tired to move from Serena’s bed. Serena had fallen asleep across her, arms wrapped around her waist and her face buried in Bernie’s shoulder. The Snowman was on the tele, and Bernie cried when he melted. She’d forgotten all about the story and the little song that plays when they fly.

The second time had been at a conference in Scotland. There wasn’t a mix up, there were two beds in the room they were sharing. It had just been bloody cold in Glasgow, and the heating in the room was awful and Serena had been shivering. Bernie had kept her warm, gave her wooly socks and held her close. Bernie had barely slept that night, as Serena breathed easily, and finally stopped shivering. Her cold nose had pressed into Bernie’s neck all night, and Bernie couldn’t bring herself to move back over to her own bed.

Sharing a bed is an intimacy that comes naturally to Serena. She is tactile and warm where Bernie is distant and formal. But Bernie hates how natural it feels, to sleep with Serena in her arms.

Serena seems to expect it this time, as she reaches over and clicks off the tele, and then pulls the gold chain hanging from the lamp and turns out the light. She seems to expect Bernie to pull her to her, even reaches out and places a hand on Bernie’s hip. Bernie turns to meet her.

And this is how they are lying, with Serena’s head on Bernie’s shoulder, her right hand across Bernie’s belly, gently resting on the hip bone. Bernie wraps her left arm around Serena’s shoulder, and pulls her closer, until they are warm and together and whenever Bernie takes in a breath she can smell Serena’s shampoo.

Serena sighs, sinking further into that place between sleep and consciousness. She’s half asleep when she murmurs into Bernie’s neck.

“Love you.”

Bernie whispers back without a moment's hesitation, “Love you, too.”

...

Bernie can’t sleep.

Serena is snoring quietly beside her, and she shuffles impossibly closer to Bernie in her sleep. She murmurs something before huffing quietly and settling down again. Bernie doesn’t resist or try to shrug Serena off, but stays very still, looking out the hotel window.

The lights are muted and it must be halfway through the night. Bernie resists the temptation to reach out and check her phone, knowing the movement would dislodge the body so gracefully draped across her.

Her eyelids feel heavy, and they keep drifting closed and then snapping open anytime she’s nearly all asleep. She’s still thinking about what Elinor said. Her voice keeps rolling round and round and Bernie can’t seem to decide what to do.

She can either tell Serena and possibly lose their closeness in the process. They would still be friends, nothing in the world would change that. But it would be different, forever changed.

Or she can simply go on the way they have been. They will get up in the morning and share breakfast. Serena will order Bernie’s coffee for her, and she’ll have an an English muffin with orange marmalade, and they’ll sit quietly and share the newspaper, or watch the world go by. But they’ll do it together. Like always.

And Serena will pour the coffee, and Bernie will add two teaspoons of sugar and a spot of milk to her cup, and the whole thing will be so achingly domestic that Bernie will wonder how she hasn’t realized that they’ve basically been married for two years.

Whenever anything happens in Bernie’s life, Serena is the first to know. Without Serena, who would she talk to?

“I can hear you thinking,” Serena grumbles.

Bernie starts, and wonders how long ago Serena stopped snoring.

Serena nestles into her, her breath on Bernie’s neck and she sighs, before pulling away and sitting up with her back against the headboard. “Tell me what’s wrong,” she says. She reaches up to rub at her eyes, wiping away a bit of the sleepiness.

“It’s nothing,” Bernie evades too quickly.

Serena just arches her eyebrow and gives her that look.

“Fine, it’s something.”

“And what is this _something_ that is keeping you awake long into the night,” Serena sighs dramatically, before placing her hand on Bernie’s thigh. She’s looking right at her, and Bernie has to look anywhere else or she might cry. She hates crying, and the headache that always follows.

“I…” she takes in a deep breath. Her heart is pounding and she feels her heartbeat in her throat. She coughs and tries to clear it away, tries fiercely not to be so very afraid. “I've been meaning to tell you something, for some time actually.”

Serena nods. “What is it?” she asks softly.

Bernie looks down at Serena’s long fingers resting on the duvet over her thigh. She reaches down and laces her fingers together with Serena’s, grips them tight.

“Bernie, darling…”

Bernie’s heart lurches at the endearment. Is there anything lovelier than that sound, the sound of Serena speaking to her like that? Such quietness and devotion in one small word. It makes Bernie want to offer herself up, to give Serena everything, to give her anything Serena could ever want. But what if Bernie did all that, got on her knees and begged Serena to love her, to choose her? What if she did all that, and Serena said no?

“You can tell me anything, you know that don’t you?”

Bernie nods, and holds Serena’s hand a little tighter. She’s still marveling at their linked fingers. They’ve held hands so many times over the years, but it still makes Bernie light up. The feeling of Serena’s hand in hers hasn’t quite lost its shininess.

“What happens in London stays in London,” Serena chimes.

She’s trying to make Bernie laugh, but all Bernie can muster is a small smile that quickly fades.

Serena sighs.

“Shall I tell you my secret then? Make it a little easier on you?”

“You’ve got a secret?” Bernie asks in disbelief.

“Hmm,” Serena hums. “And it’s a big one. No one knows yet, you’ll be the first.”

_Oh._

Bernie tries to remember how to say the word congratulations, and tries to remember if there is a ring on Serena’s other hand. Her heart plummets and she looks into Serena’s eyes.

“Gerald and I split up,” Serena states casually, as if she was talking about the bloody weather.

Bernie just stares at her.

Serena chuckles at Bernie’s face. “It was mutual actually, the man was rather dull. Lovely and kind, but dull.”

Bernie’s mouth opens up, and she tries to speak, but she just sits there with her mouth open like a codfish.

“Happened about a week ago, but I haven’t seen you in nearly two weeks,” Serena explains, her face looking a little worried now at Bernie’s silence.  

The concern on Serena’s face snaps Bernie out of whatever state she was in and she lets go of Serena’s hand and climbs out of the bed. She shivers because it’s cold when Serena is not holding her, and she wraps her arms around herself and starts to pace around the room.

After a minute she stops and looks at Serena sitting casually on their bed, looking bemused.

“So…., you’re _not_ getting married?” Bernie asks quietly. It’s more of a whisper, a desperate plea.

“What?” Serena utters. “Who would I possibly be getting married to?”

“The neurosurgeon,” Bernie nearly shrieks. She’s emotionally all over the place, and can’t quite seem to keep up with what’s happening. She takes a deep breath. “Gerald,” she says tightly. “You’re bloody boyfriend, for fuck’s sake.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Serena tuts.

“Well he was five seconds ago.”

“Well he’s not now,” Serena argues.

“Then why do you have a bridal magazine?” Bernie demands desperately. She snatches the offensive wad of glossy paper off the desk and holds it above her head like a kind of trophy. She wants to throw it on the ground or tear it up. She hasn’t quite decided.

“I accidentally brought it up from the spa,” Serena says, and she blushes.

“Ac...accidentally?” Bernie asks hesitantly, momentarily sidetracked by Serena’s blush.

“Yes.” Serena looks away. “I was distracted,” she mutters after a moment, and she starts to fidget with the duvet. Her hands smooth away nonexistent wrinkles and she can't seem to sit still. Serena always fidgets when she’s nervous. Bernie watches as her hand comes up to twirl her necklace.

“Distracted by what?”

“By you,” Serena confesses. The confession is punctuated with a mirthless laugh. It’s a hollow, empty sound. Serena continues, “I was distracted by you in that ridiculous hotel robe, and by your hair, and by the way you smelled of peppermint right after your massage.”

Serena stops fidgeting and just clings to her necklace now. Her knuckles are white and her voice is clipped and she can’t seem to talking. She's staring out the window, but doesn’t seem to see London at all.

“I’m always distracted by you. It’s why Ric talked me into signing up for a dating app. Said it would help me get over you.”

“Over me?” Bernie whispers. But she’s not sure Serena hears her because she just plows through.

“And then I met Gerald and I tried to forget about how wrong it all felt. I mean, some of it was nice, I had someone there for a little while. But it wasn't you. He wasn’t you.”

Serena looks away from the window and right at her.

“And then he tried to sit down in your chair at the table, and I told him he couldn’t. That it was your chair.”

Bernie swallows.

“He laughed at first, thought it was a joke. But I was serious, and it killed me that he sat down anyway. I didn’t realize how much it bothered me. And then you didn’t even show up for that dinner, and that bothered me even more.”

Bernie hangs her head at that, remembering how she’d left the moment she saw Gerald sitting in her chair.

“Eventually I realized I couldn’t make room for him. I couldn’t make room for anyone, because you’re everywhere in my life. And what I thought was a little infatuation with my best friend was actually something more.”

Bernie looks up sharply as Serena moves off the bed. She moves smoothly across the floor, and comes to stand in front of her. The room is still dark, and the only light is the muted street lamps from outside.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bernie asks. Her voice is strangled and garbled, and she hardly recognizes it.

“Because you never tell me anything, Bernie. I have to drag things out of you, and for months I waited for you to tell me. For you to tell me I wasn’t mad for feeling the way I felt. I needed you to tell me I wasn’t foolish for wanting to be with you so desperately.”

Serena steps a bit closer.

“And I was so desperate Bernie. So I got drunk, and I moved on.”

Serena reaches up and gently cups Bernie’s cheek. Her thumb caresses the apple of her cheek, and she sighs. Bernie leans into it, can’t seem to do anything else but let Serena touch her.

“Or so I thought,” Serena murmurs.  

Bernie raises her left hand to cover Serena’s. Her eyes slip shut and she whispers, “And now?”

“And now I’m more in love with you than ever.”

Bernie turns her head and kisses Serena's palm. She takes in a deep breath and opens her eyes. She's ready now. 

“I love you, Serena.”

Serena’s breath hitches and Bernie smiles. There are tears in Serena’s eyes, and Bernie steps closer to quickly wipe one away. “I never thought I could deserve you, Serena. I’m so sorry.”

Serena laughs, a crying laugh, and her smile is tearful and joyful and Bernie thinks her heart is about to burst.

“Say it again?” Serena whispers.

“I’m so sorry, Serena.” She’ll apologize as much as Serena needs. She'll do anything if it means Serena keeps looking at her like that. 

Serena shakes her head. “No, the other thing.”

Bernie smiles in understanding and leans down a bit, so that her lips gently brush Serena’s lips. “I love you, she whispers reverently.  

Serena surges forward and kisses her and suddenly Bernie is floating, weightless. The universe is soft and quiet and it feels as if the whole world is underwater. The kiss is wet and sloppy and Serena is standing on her tiptoes, pulling Bernie to her. Her hands are wrapped around Bernie’s shoulders, and she’s sighing, over and over again into the kiss. Bernie’s hands rest on Serena’s hips, and she pulls her impossibly closer.

“Please,” Serena sighs into the kiss. She says it again when Bernie kisses her neck, and again when she licks the spot that was driving her mad with want during dinner downstairs. Serena sighs when Bernie kisses behind her ear, gasps when she takes an earlobe in between her teeth and bites down playfully.

“Please,” Serena whimpers when Bernie kisses her again, hot and wild and so very full of love.

“Please,” she moans, when Bernie begins to back her toward the bed.

“Please Bernie, please,” she sobs, as Bernie slowly and finally presses her down into the mattress.

...

Morning comes quickly, and Bernie wakes up slowly, and then all at once. Serena is still wrapped around her, snoring softly, and the sun is rising. The bed is warm and cozy, and everything seems far away and hazy. Serena wakes up and smiles.

Bernie kisses her on the forehead, and then on the cheek, one playful peck to the nose, and then a soft kiss to her lips.

“I love you,” Bernie croaks. Her voice is hoarse and she probably has morning breath but Serena doesn’t seem to mind.

“I love you too.”

Serena kisses her everywhere, across her chest, along her neck, and all the way down between her thighs. When it is all over and Serena is dozing again, Bernie gets up and dresses quickly, runs down to the bakery across the street and brings back coffee and breakfast. They eat in bed, and share buttery kisses, and drink from the same coffee cup.

They pack quietly, and just as they’re about to leave, Serena starts humming the song she always hums when she’s happy. Bernie smiles and Serena smiles back. And together, they walk into the morning air of a new day.


End file.
